


Growing Up Winchester

by Vampedvixen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Pre-Canon, Teenage!Sam, Weechesters, teenage!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3725491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampedvixen/pseuds/Vampedvixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of snippets from Dean and Sam's childhood. It wasn't all bad, it wasn't all good though...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Up Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> These come from a variety of universes, mostly canon. I tried to make them flow as best I could.

Even months later, John still hadn't recovered from hole his wife left in his heart when she died. He killed the thing that killed her, hunted all others that might hurt his sons but that was just survival. It wasn't living. He couldn't even _fathom_ thriving these days or getting on with his life.

They just had to keep moving, keep hunting.. keep surviving. It was killing him.

One night while John was attempting to get Sam to drink his baby formula, Dean tugged on his sleeve and handed him a letter. His son had already changed himself into his warm pajamas and John instantly felt like a neglectful father, if only he didn't already have his hands full with Sam he would have helped Dean with that.

The letter was addressed to Santa, with some of the letters written backwards. It hit John only then that Christmas was two weeks from then. He'd been busy, so busy..

“Are we gonna put lights around the hotel room, Daddy? For Christmas?”

John sighed. “I don't think so, Dean. There's a lot of work to do and it's just a hotel room--”

“But mommy always liked the lights at Christmas. She said they were her favoritest part.” Dean pouted, putting his little hands on his hips and refusing to let his father out of this one. “And you know she's watching from heaven. She'll know if you don't put them up. She'll know!”

There was no getting out of it. Not with his son starring up at him with those big, innocent eyes. He relented, and hugged his son tightly. “Okay, okay. I'll figure something out.”

The next morning, when Dean woke up the whole room was decorated with Christmas lights and a small potted tree with some tiny ornaments and barely there tinsel. It was enough though, enough for Mary to see from heaven.

It was Christmas again; it was living again.

* * *

What Sam really wanted was his father to tell him a bedtime story, even though John said that he was past such childish things and even though he knew his father was working on big important things. His father never told Sam what these big important things were, because Sam was not old enough to know. Adults liked to speak double-talk like that.

So, instead of waiting for his father when Sam knew he wouldn't come tuck him in for bed, he waited for the girl with the long blond hair. She came in at night, through the window and crept over to his bed.

He'd been afraid of her at first, but she promised she couldn't hurt him even if she wanted to-- he was going to be important in the future. He'd been chosen. He didn't quite know what that meant though, since she never explained herself.

She gave him stories instead of explanations. They weren't stories his father would have told him. They were darker ones, more twisted.. but they seemed oddly comforting to the boy. “Once upon a time, Sammy, a great and powerful angel fell from the sky..”

* * *

"Okay.. so her mirror is magic, right?" Sam stared at the television as if it were a puzzle he was trying to comprehend.

Dean shrugged. "Uh. Sure."

"And she can see people in it."

Dean sat there, amused Sam was still at the age where he couldn't quite tell reality from fiction. Then again it was hard to explain fiction to a child who saw witches and demons on a nearly weekly basis. Sure, Dad tried to shield them from it, but it never really worked. He grabbed a handful of popcorn and answered sarcastically, "Apparently today she saw John, Mike and Julie."

"But why doesn't she ever see _us_ , Dean?" Sam asked, sounding a little hurt. "Is it cause we move too much? Or does she just not like us cause we're not like the other kids?"

Dean frowned. He hated being the parent, the one to try to comfort Sam when their crazy lifestyle started getting too much for the kid. "Nah, Sammy. It's just cause-- um.. well, you know how Dad doesn't like anyone to know where we are?"

Sam nodded, completely enthralled as Dean thought of an excuse.

"Well, Dad asked Bobby to place a block on any peeping Toms.. or Nancys.. that might be trying to see us and find out where we are. It's for our own privacy, really. That's all."

"Oh. Okay." Sam smiled and returned to the television program. A minute later, he turned around to face his brother again, "But Santa will still know where to find us, right?"

Dean nearly laughed, but instead just said, "Sure, Sammy, Santa will still be able to find us. And if you go get me another soda, I'm sure Santa will bring you an extra special present this year."

As Sam hopped to the task, Dean realized that being the big brother had it's perks.

* * *

"Bryan from school said that Santa Claus isn't real." Sammy pouted as he helped put up the Harvelle's Christmas tree. Dean was busy sucking on one of the red and white striped candy canes, while Jo was stringing tinsel on the branches she was tall enough to reach. It was a Christmas tradition to spend the holiday together. "Is that true?"

Dean was older, and therefore wiser and Sammy knew he could count on him for an honest answer. Jo was starring at him too now, her little bottom lip quivering, waiting to see if he would tell them their present-bringing hero didn't really exist. "Uh, well, Bryan's a moron. Don't listen to him, okay? I've actually met the real Santa Claus... though he's a bit different than what you think."

"Different how?" Sam asked as he put up a bright red bulb on one of the low branches.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed, as he thought of the demon Dad had faced down that went by the same moniker. "You uh.. you don't want to know. Just don't worry, okay? Tomorrow you'll get your train set you wanted so much. Trust me. Me and Santa are _likethis_." He crossed his fingers, displaying a closeness that wasn't very close to the truth. "I saw him wrapping it up for you."

That seemed to placate the little kids. Someday they would learn the actual truth, but for now Dean didn't see the harm in a little white lie every now and then. Let them enjoy their childhood, they'd grow up too soon anyway. It was too late for Dean, but he could still protect his brother's innocence.

* * *

“Do you think we'll ever get a real home, Dean? With a backyard and maybe a dog?” Sam asked as they ate their McDonald's Happy Meals in the backseat of the Impala. Dean was busy starring out the window at the Kansas countryside. “Bobby used to have a swing set with a seesaw in his backyard. Do you think we can we get one of those?”

Dean rolled his eyes. His brother hadn't yet caught on to the fact that they were never going home. They could never go back, too much had happened-- too much that Dad tried to shield from both of them, but Dean saw it anyway. “Can't you ask me an intelligent question?”

Sam stuck his tongue out at his brother, “I didn't want to confuse you.”

Just as Dean was about to punch Sam back for being a wise ass, his father looked back in the rear-view mirror. Dean never wanted to make trouble or make more of an issue out of not having a home than it was already. He sighed and just said, “Just finish your fries, Sammy.”

* * *

John glanced up from his journal to see his son standing in the doorway, a worried expression etched across his tiny face. John put down his pen and set his journal aside. “What's wrong, Sam?”

“There's something in my closet.” He was quiet, obviously embarrassed about the situation. He was supposed to be a big boy now, John told him this on numerous occasions. He was growing up and soon he might even be big enough to his big brother and father on a real hunt. But he was still little enough to be scared of the dark. “I don't wanna be alone. Can you come sit with me?”

John sighed in exasperation. It was getting late, and he still had piles of work to do; a journal entry to finish writing, EVP to sort through on those tapes he made today, local legends to cross-reference.. but his son needed some kind of comfort right now.

Thinking quickly, John grabbed for his nearest gun, a Ruger .45 Pistol. Then he picked Sam up and carried him back to his bedroom, “You remember when I showed you how to use one of these?”

Sam nodded as John placed him on the bed, but still seemed worried. “But, Daddy, I--”

“It's loaded, but the safety is on. You have to be very careful with these things, remember Sam?” He waited for his son to agree. Then, he placed the gun on the nightstand and continued, “If anything tries to come out of that closet, you shoot it in both the head and heart. Three bullets for each. Got it?”

“Okay, Daddy, but--”

“Now, I have a lot of work to do, so you go to bed and be quiet okay? Please, for me?” John didn't wait for his response before going back to the dining room and his work. Though he did hear a few small protests when he left, but he knew for a fact there wasn't anything in his house he was renting.

He'd placed too many hex bags and a salt circle around the place for anything to get in that he didn't allow in. Sam was just being paranoid. The kid would worry himself into an early grave if he wasn't careful. John could only hope the gun he gave him would work as a magic feather to soothe the kid into some kind of placebo effect. At least, until John was able to finish his work.

* * *

That night was little Sammy's first hunt with the grown-ups; he'd heard the stories Dean and his father brought back from the front lines, helped with the research back at whichever motel they happened to be staying at that week and even learned a little bit of first aid to help mend the wounds they received while out on their hunts. He was ready-- or so he thought, before seeing the ghost up close and personal.

They were standing in the cafeteria when the ticked-as-all-hell spirit came out of no where. Dean was busy holding the damn thing off when he noticed Sam making a break for it. He inched away from the thing and then jutted down the hallway. “Damn it, Sammy.”

The kid wasn't ready, only seven-years-old and still so young.

After Dean dispatched the spirit and sent it into the light or whatever they went when they finally gave up, he went to go find his little brother. Following a noisy clatter, he headed down one of the hallways to the music room. He pushed the door open slowly, and found his little brother sitting there amidst a pile of fallen musical instruments.

“I tripped over the trombone.” Sammy explained as Dean shone the flashlight in his face. He shifted some of the drums off of himself, looking ashamed and guilty. “It was dark.”

Dean sighed and knelt down to check Sam out. His ankle was swelling up pretty badly, but it wasn't anything some ice wouldn't fix. He helped Sam to his feet, muttering under his breath about how their father shouldn't have sent the kid out at such a young age. Why couldn't he just accept that they were just kids and not trained soldiers?

“I'm sorry, Dean.” Sam's apology hung in the air. “Are you gonna tell Dad I messed up the hunt?”

“Aw, you didn't mess it up, Sammy. I still killed the thing.”

“But I ran away. I got scared.”

“It was your first time. You'll learn.” He shrugged. Then Dean noticed Sam was still limping pretty badly, so he gestured for his little brother to climb on his back. “Want a piggyback ride back out to the car?”

Sam nodded, enthusiastically. “So you really got the ghost?”

“Yep.” Dean told him as they left the music room and began to walk out of the school. “Knocked her right back into the afterlife. Bye-bye, evil ghost bitch who was trying to pick on my little brother. See, that's where she went wrong. No one messes with my Sammy.”

Sam smiled, hold onto Dean's neck tight. “Do you think someday I'll be as good a hunter as you?”

“Stick with me, kid; I'll teach you everything I know.”

* * *

When Sam saw his brother turn the corner and start walking down the hallway towards the principal's office, he looked down guiltily at his shoes. His father wasn't even around that day to come pick him up after the fight. It figured he would send Dean to come collect him.

“Do you know how pissed off Dad is right now?” Dean asked, trying his best to put on his well-perfected parental act. Sam didn't even have a chance to reply before the principal asked Dean into his office so they could have a private talk.

Sam tried to listen to the conversation going on about him behind that door, but couldn't hear what was going on. Not how much the principal was telling his brother, or how angry Dean sounded at him. Nothing. The fear of the unknown was almost as bad as getting yelled at.

“Come on. Get your stuff. I've got the Impala outside.” Dean said to him when he exited the office. He said a few 'sorrys' and promised Sam's father would talk to him about it that night.

Sam gulped and collected his things from the bench, following quietly after Dean. He threw his bag over his shoulder and silently walked outside. “I'm sorry, Dean. Please don't tell Dad I started the fight. I'll give you my allowance for the next month. Please?”

“You're adding bribery on top of everything else? Geez, kid.” Dean glanced at his brother and then reached out to rub the small bruise on his brother's cheek. It was growing black and blue. “ And what exactly happened? You've only been at this school for a week now. Why are you picking fights with other kids already?”

Sam said nothing until they got into the car. Then, quietly he replied. “Jim was talking about Mom, Dean. And us. He said we were freaks.”

Dean grabbed the wheel of the car tightly with his hands, his knuckles turned white with the pressure. Then he relaxed, his mood changing completely. He wasn't angry anymore, Sam could tell. Instead of blaming him, Dean asked, “Did you get in a good couple of hits before the teacher pulled you guys apart?”

“I knocked him into one of the school's stone gargoyles and punched him in the face. I don't think he'll be talking about us anymore.”

“That's my boy.” Dean ruffled his brother's hair as he pulled out of the parking lot. Then his voice turned semi-serious again but with an edge of sarcasm to it now, “But, in case Dad asks, I gave you a stern talking to and you're not going to try anything like that again. Okay?”

Sam nodded. “Thanks, Dean.”

* * *

“See! I always knew you were a Samantha.” Dean said quiet enough for their father to not hear him in the back of the Impala. He poked Sam in the arm and laughed at his little brother's predicament. It wasn't usual for them to get involved in their father's work, but they were now. Far. Too. Involved. “You're just lucky you're not old enough to have to wear a bra.”

“Daaaaaaaaad,” Sam complained, hating the way his voice was softer now, more gentle. He punched his brother back, not even waiting for the reinforcements he'd called in. He hated being a girl. Girls had cooties. “Dean's teasing me again.”

Sam watched as their father looked at the two of them through the rear-view mirror. He rubbed his forehead and replied. “Dean, stop teasing your brother about being turned into a girl. After all, this was the same witch that turned you into a frog and Sam didn't tease you back then.”

Sam stuck his tongue out at his brother, happy his father was siding with him.

* * *

“Come on, Dean.” Sammy grabbed his hand and led him to the next house. He was dressed as a little vampire, whereas his older brother hadn't dressed up this year. They'd fought about that for a while, but Dean said it was a holiday just for little kids. Sam relented when Dean promised to go trick-or-treating anyway. “We're gonna miss all the candy! The last house was only giving out pennies 'cause she ran out.”

“Okay, okay, hold your horses--” His brother stopped as a girl dressed up as a witch walked past them. Sam had never seen a witch wear such a short skirt though, not even when they tagged along on one of Dad's hunts. “Well, hello there, sweetheart.”

Sammy starred at the girl, then back at the curious expression on Dean's face.. not really understanding the big deal. His older brother was starting to notice things about girls, older girls with what Dean called 'big bazooms'. Sam didn't really know what bazooms were, or why they enticed his brother so much. He just knew they were keeping him from the next house on the block. “Come on, Dean, come on!”

“Just a minute.” His brother called back, without even bothering to glance over in Sam's direction. He might as well not even be there.

Sammy sighed and sat on the curb as Dean and the fake witch got into a long drawn-out conversation, with his brother putting on that I'm-so-cool act he always did around the girls. He took out a tootsie roll and watched the two older kids. Someday, Sammy would have to ask him what was so interesting about these older girls and why his brother acted like they didn't have cooties like the rest.

* * *

“Quick! Dean, help!” Sam ducked into the kitchen of the old abandoned house, he slammed the door behind him. He could still hear the hellhound rushing down the hallway as him and his brother blocked the doorway. It scratched at the door, whining and slowly overpowering them. “The puppy got out.”

“I can see that. Why weren't you faster spreading that damn salt circle?”

“I tried. It saw me and charged!”

It was their first hunt without Dad and Dean really didn't want to screw this one up. The adults were counting on them to get this right. It was just one little hellhound after all, and a baby one at that.

Thinking quickly, Dean grabbed a can of peanut butter from off the counter. “Sam, move!”

“Are you crazy?”

“I've got a plan.” Dean shouted. When his brother moved out of the way, the door flew open and the hellhound puppy stood there with his mouth wide and teeth glinting. Taking careful aim, Dean threw the jar into it's open maw. The hellhound crushed it between it's jaw, causing it to exploded and coat it's tongue and cheeks with the sticky substance.

It was like glue, and the creature whined as it tried to get it out of it's mouth, it's tongue darting to and fro. Too preoccupied with the new texture and stickiness in it's mouth, the hellhound never saw Sam pull the trigger of his gun or the bullet that hit it square in it's head.

Dean breathed in relief. “Just like Old Yeller.”

* * *

He nearly coughs and chokes on his desert when little Sammy asks what sex feels like. Dean doesn't know what to say, he knows Sam's been taking those classes in his new school, the ones where they teach the newly-turned teenagers about reproduction and safe sex and how to use a condom.

Even with all that education though, Dean's still not sure he's ready to have this discussion with someone so young, let alone his brother. “Uh.. er.. why do you ask?”

Sam shifts in his seat, unsure of how to continue or whether he'll get in trouble for having this conversation later. “Well.. we were talking about it in class last week, and then I saw you in the back of Dad's Impala with--”

“Wait, you saw me with Jennifer?!”

“Just a little.” Sam admits. He blushes and then stands to get himself a piece of the pie on the kitchen counter, using the task as a distraction. It's then that Dean notices just how tall Sammy is getting these days. It seems like only yesterday Sammy came up to his waist, and now he was almost taller than him.

Dean groans inwardly. If his father found out about Jennifer and what Dean did with her in the backseat of the family car, he would kick his butt. He racks his brain for something to tell Sam so the kid won't bring this conversation up with their father and inadvertently tell on him.

“Okay, Sammy, I'll level with ya.” He picks up a piece of pie with his fork and thinks a moment. “Sex is like.. pie.”

Sammy returns to the table, fully riveted on every bit of expert adult advice he knows his older brother will impart on him. The two of them have very few secrets and it's partly this reason that Sam came to him in the first place. “Like pie?”

“It's mouth watering, delicious, filling.. and it goes great with whipped cream.” Dean says, letting that last part slip in there accidentally. He smiles. “And even when it's bad.. it's still pretty good. But you didn't hear that from me. We never had this conversation.”

He catches on to the tone in Dean's last sentence and nods, knowing that they now have one more secret between them that the grown ups don't know about. “What conversation? I didn't hear any conversation.”

“Good.” He's relieved that the boy seems to be content and out of questions for the time being. This doesn't mean Dean's ever going to stop treating him like a little kid though, and as far as he's concerned little brothers are good for one thing: fetching things that are out of reach so their older, cooler siblings don't have to get up. “Now that that's clear, go get me another slice.”

* * *

Sam was busy throwing stones into Sebago Lake when Dean found him. The younger boy was pissed from his fight with their father that afternoon, but Dean figured he fight be able to talk some sense into him. He scooped up a couple of pebbles in his own hand and joined Sam at the lake's shore, chucking them in one by one. “So, uh.. you and dad, not talking I gather?”

“He's a jerk.” The teenager turned to his older brother, his bottom lip sticking out defiantly. “He wants to get involved in my life all of a sudden? What's that about?”

“He's just curious. This is the first relationship you've ever been in.” Dean skimmed a rock across the water's surface. It hopped across the top three times before disappearing deep into the lake. “I think he wants to make sure you're safe and make sure this person you're going with isn't an incubus or some kind of demon.”

“Don't you guys trust me not to put myself in danger like that? I've been a hunter for how long now and you're still worried I might go off and do something stupid. Geez.” Sam sighed and crossed his arms.

He shrugged, “I'm not worried. Even if you did do something stupid, I'd save your ass and then get to tease you about it for the rest of eternity. Nah. I'm just in it to see if this person is in your league.. and maybe to tease you about that later.”

That got a small laugh, and an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “You're all about the teasing.”

“I'm the big brother. I get benefits like that.” Dean smirked, and then chucked another stone into the lake. “But seriously, come on, is having dinner with your boyfriend and dad just for one night going to kill you? Just make dad happy this one time and maybe he'll get off your back about it.”

“..Dean?”

“What?”

Sam was quiet for a good long while. He stood watching the lake lap the shore, seeming afraid of whatever it was he was going to say next. “You said 'boyfriend'.. I, uh-- how long have you known?”

He was in mid-thrown when Dean's eyes widened. He laughed. “What? Is that what you're afraid of? Come on, Sammy, did you really think we didn't know?”

“I just thought..” He trailed off, then started again. He kicked at the sand, seemingly preoccupied with digging his foot into it. “I thought you'd get mad at me or freak out or dad would make us move again or something.”

Dean's laughing stopped and he squinted his eyes at his brother. There was something in what Sammy said that deeply wounded him, then he realized what it was that pained him. “Sammy, geez-- you're my little brother, do you really think I would care about something so completely trivial as whether you're gay or not? Besides, when have the Winchester's lifestyles ever been synonymous with 'normal' or 'conventional'? I don't care. Dad doesn't care. And as long as you're not sleeping around with a werewolf or vampire or something, we're only going to ever care about one thing.”

“One thing?”

“Whether or not you're happy.”

Sam didn't know what to say, but Dean could see relief settle in him, as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders. He blinked, this much chick flick sentiment was not Dean's usual style.

“But I'm still probably gonna tease you about being out of their league.”

They laughed. That was more like it.

* * *

Sam was packing his things for college when Dean entered his room. It was fifteen days since they talked last. Ever since then, they'd been staying out of each other's way and showing each other cold shoulder routine.

He folded a shirt, placing it in his suitcase while Dean sat down in the corner chair. He sighed. “If you're looking for another fight--”

“I'm not, Sammy.” Dean said, taking all the thunder out of Sam's rising tone. He sounded tired, lost. Hell, they both were-- they'd been so for a very long time. It was going to be so weird now that Dean wasn't always going to be there for him. Now that he was going to be in a completely different state with a completely new life. “I just-- I don't know, I guess I wanted to say goodbye and good luck. And I'm sorry.”

That was unexpected. Sam didn't know quite what to say. After all, he was sorry too-- sorry that he couldn't be there for his brother anymore, sorry that he couldn't play the dutiful solider son anymore. He wanted something better, something different.

“Dad doesn't understand yet, but I think I'm starting to see the big picture here.” Dean sighed. “I saw you talking to the admissions office on the phone yesterday. It's been.. it's been too long since I saw you smile like that. You really think this is what you want, don't you?”

“It is.” He nodded.

Stamford. A new life. A _normal_ life.

He wanted it so badly it hurt.

Dean took this in, knowing now that he would never change his brother's mind. “Just make sure you keep in touch then, okay? I want to know all about the girls I'm missing out on-- the wild parties, all that fun stuff.”

Sam laughed. “I think I'll mostly be studying.”

“Come on, Sammy, you're getting out of this rat race and you're not even gonna go to a kegger? Man, you are straight-laced.” Dean smirked, but then held out his hand. Sam shook it, knowing that Dean was offering whatever shred of acceptance he had to give. His brother would never fully understand, but this came as close to that as possible. “You need anything, you call me, okay?”

“I will, Dean. Promise.”

.End.


End file.
